


Balance

by deedeeinfj



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phryne never learned to ride a bike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katinka31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katinka31/gifts).



> For Katinka, who gave me the prompt. =)

Phryne had seemed delighted with the gift at the time, Jack remembered, thinking back to her birthday and the way her eyes had shone when he had presented her with a bicycle. It was the only gift he could have considered after discovering, to his great surprise, that she did not already own one.

"Oh, Jack," she had sighed, toying with the red ribbon tied about the handlebars.

"Give it a go!"

"Not now. It's too overwhelming." And then she had distracted him by embracing him and kissing his cheek.

That had been a few weeks ago, and she still hadn't used the bicycle. Unwilling to entertain the idea (yet) that she didn't like the present, Jack reasoned that perhaps there had simply been a lack of opportunity. This was the thought that brought him to St Kilda on a blue-skied Sunday morning.

Mr. Butler had just cleared away breakfast, and Phryne greeted him at the door in a kimono and with a beautiful face not yet armored with cosmetics.

"Jack!" she said fondly, the way she always did. "I wasn't expecting you today, but what a pleasant surprise you are."

"I came here with the bold intention of asking you to step out with me this morning, Miss Fisher."

"That's very forward of you, Inspector. Will I be needing a chaperone?"

"No," he said, and he stepped aside to reveal his mode of transportation behind him. "Only your bicycle."

She opened her mouth and floundered for a moment before managing to say, "Jack, I... I can't."

"I suspected as much," he nodded, struggling to suppress his disappointment. "Miss Fisher, if you didn't like the bicycle, you could have said so. I could return it and exchange it for--"

"I love the bicycle, Jack," she interrupted. She retreated into the parlor, and he followed her inside, closing the front door behind him.

"What is it, then?" he asked. He turned his hat in his hands and waited.

"I can't -- that is, I don't..." She crossed her arms, and up, up, up went her defiant little chin. "I've never learned to ride a bicycle." She must have seen the quirking of his mouth because she went on with a lethal glare, "Don't you dare laugh at me, Jack Robinson."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, voice low and carefully in check. "But I cannot help smiling at you."

"I didn't have one when I was a girl, you see, and after... Well. I never learned."

Jack nodded. "In that case, you leave me with no choice. I will have to teach you. I'll wait while you go up and get dressed."

One of Phryne's eyebrows arched at the command, but her lips curved into a smile, and she appeared genuinely pleased at his insistence. "Very well, Jack. I will return shortly as your eager pupil."

Something in the words and in her tone warmed his neck. As she disappeared up the stairs, he reached up to loosen a tie that was not there.

She returned only minutes later in a light, gay blouse tucked into loose, white trousers that brushed the tops of her low-heeled Mary Janes. Flashing a grin at him, she donned the cream-colored hat she commonly wore for casual or outdoor occasions.

"Well?" she asked, turning for him.

"You dress like a woman who already knows how to ride."

Her eyes flashed at him in just the naughty way he had been hoping to summon with his innuendo, but her only reply was a nod.

They wheeled their bicycles out side-by-side to the street. Jack propped his up against the gate. "Balance is everything," he told her. "And I've seen you prove time and again that you have excellent balance and coordination, a real grace..." He paused as he realized that he was beginning to say too much, but it was too late now. "A grace about you," he finished. He cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Jack," she said. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Phryne Fisher was blushing. "Should I... well, sling my leg right over, then?"

"Yes, but then keep both feet on the ground."

She followed his instructions and stood there waiting for the next step. Jack went to her side and placed one hand on the nearest handlebar, just next to her own slender fingers; the other he settled on her back.

She turned and looked up at him. "Now what?" Her eyes drifted down to his mouth as he couldn't help noticing they often did.

"The pedal on your other side is higher up," he said. "Put your foot on it and push. Then put your other foot on its pedal as it comes round, and you'll be moving. Don't worry. I've got you."

She smiled. "I know you do."

He walked alongside her as she moved the bike forward. The frequent and heavy shifts in weight told him that he was doing a great deal of the balancing.

"The reason it's hard to balance is because we're moving so slowly," he said. "Go on and pedal a little faster. I can keep up."

She did as he said, and he jogged beside her. As he had expected, the balance was in her hands now, and he released the handlebar, though he kept his hand at her back in case she should fall.

"Jack!" she exclaimed, and she sounded every bit like a giddy child. She laughed and pedaled faster. "Look at me, Jack!"

"Want me to let go?" he asked.

Her answer was to pedal faster still, and he fell behind as she went on ahead by herself. He watched her go a little distance before she attempted to turn. In her uncertainty, she took it too slow, he could tell, and she only just managed to catch herself with her foot on the ground. He waited to see if she could start herself off on her own.

She could. He could feel himself beaming at her as she rode back towards him.

But then there was a small, yapping dog - a man chasing it - a blur as they ran between Jack and Phryne - and Phryne was on the ground. She had fallen on her knee and hand, and Jack could see her wincing as he ran up to help her.

"Not too bad?" he asked as he lifted the bicycle away and off of her. Holding it up with one hand, he offered the other to her.

She brushed her hands briskly over her trousers and then against each other. "I wounded my dignity a little, and I'll have a sore knee. Dot will be cross about what I've done to my clothes."

"Not so much as a scrape on your dignity, Phryne. You did very well, and the fall wasn't your fault." To his surprise, she threaded her arm through his. "You don't want to ride back?" he asked.

"I need a rest."

"Giving up after one fall?" he needled.

"Not on your life, Jack Robinson."

He smiled. "Now you are truly the woman who can do anything she wants to," he said when they reached the gate.

"Not anything I want to," she said. Once again, her gaze fell to his lips. "Not yet."

"You have to remember to turn into the fall."

"What?"

"If you feel yourself falling, you turn into the fall, not out of it." He demonstrated with his hands on imaginary handlebars as he explained. "It might go against your instinct, but turn into the fall."

"Turn into the fall," she repeated. "I'll do my best, Jack."


End file.
